


every night and day, just

by gotchick



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - High School, Drabbles, Ficlets, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Road Trips, a few markson cameos if u squint, busker au, flashfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: a series of jjp drabbles and ficlets.3: "From Christmas Eve until New Year's Eve, Jinyoung goes back to watch the same busker every night." (busker jaebeom x songwriter jinyoung au)
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 17
Kudos: 145





	1. every night and day, just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s only in these random, nothing moments when it occurs to jaebum that they may ultimately be like cars in the night, only able to pass each other, never to peer in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: 0.1% of angst, i guess? :) it's not much, i hope you enjoy anyway!

Jaebum’s secondhand Hyundai, driven by Jinyoung, glides almost smoothly through the night. It’s raining, though, so Jinyoung is staring straight ahead down the open road, concentrating. Jaebum doesn’t say anything about it being a bad day for a road trip, and Jinyoung doesn’t say it was his idea to begin with. It’s kind of peaceful, really. The rain outside seals the car into a vacuum of sorts, that reminds Jaebum oddly of limbo, of time capsules. The rhythmic waving of the windshield wipers is hypnotic.

Like this, the radio is muffled behind the rain sounds, white noise playing in the background, but then Jaebum hears the unmistakable opening chords of a familiar song, the piano melody achingly sweet.

It’s been almost ten years now since he first heard this song, and he’d changed so much, between. Almost so beyond recognition that the song is more friendly than his past self.

Jaebum reaches to turn the volume knob up, till the music fills the small space of the car. Jinyoung looks over at him, then, and smiles faintly. He turns the heater dial up.

Jaebum smiles back, then looks at the raindrops tracking determinedly down the windowpane, in dotted lines. He can sense Jinyoung continuing to look at him as they idle at a traffic light. Blurred car headlights in the distance shimmer in and out, pretty red and yellow. It’s 4am, so Jinyoung doesn’t really need to pay so much attention to the virtually deserted roads until they take the exit to the highway.

Even not looking at him, Jaebum can feel Jinyoung’s presence, quietly solid, steady, self-possessed. When they were younger and the band was just debuting, fans used to comment on how Jinyoung idolised him and mimicked his every habit, every hobby.

What they — and he — hadn’t realised was that Jinyoung is like a chameleon: he does observe and acquire the best traits of people around him through osmosis, but there’s an invisible core inside him wholly his own, and decidedly unknowable. When Jaebum peeled back the layers he found that.

But Jinyoung hadn’t hesitated to open that threshold up to him too, fearlessly, wholeheartedly. In fact, he faced life and its myriad challenges with this selfsame temerity — for instance, Jaebum had battled the discovery of his sexuality with much less grace. There was this unshakable inner calm about Jinyoung that drew Jaebum in. When he saw it, he recognised without a doubt that he himself possessed no such quality.

It seldom mattered because Jinyoung is strong enough for them both. He’s frequently Jaebum’s anchor in storms, both literally and figuratively.

It’s only in these random, nothing moments when it occurs to Jaebum that they may ultimately be like cars in the night, only able to pass each other, never to peer in. He wonders then, questions — why where Jinyoung has that core of warmth Jaebum has buried within him a hollow void of loneliness that seems to grow with each year, despite Jinyoung, despite their bandmates, despite his career.

Possibly, he thinks too much about such things — but the cogs and gears of his mind never feel like they’re moving to him, just automatically spinning in the background of quotidian life.

Is it stupid to worry that this abyss will one day grow big enough to swallow him — yes, he decides, that’s too dramatic.

But there’s still that vague unease in the peripheral, lurking.

The song has ended, and the radio station is now playing one he doesn’t like. If only people still did things like making road trip playlists.

"It wasn’t a waste of time.” Jinyoung’s voice breaks into his thoughts abruptly, unexpected.

"Huh?” Jaebum finally turns to stare at him, a little surprised.

Jinyoung just smiles, that mysterious way he does, and repeats patiently, “None of it was a waste of time."

None of what, Jaebum wants to ask. Instead he stammers, “How did you know what I was thinking?"

Jinyoung grins then, flashing teeth.

"Read your mind.” He sounds smug.

Jaebum can’t help his smile, still a little flustered, and another song he knows is creeping in. One of those unabashedly romantic ones.

Jinyoung is looking back at the front, his hands gripping the wheel. Jaebum lets the rich emotion of the singer’s voice fill the space between them, and thinks of how he both craves and feels frighteningly apathetic about these things in equal measure: singing, and Jinyoung. The way he feels about life itself.

"Love you, hyung,” Jinyoung says, expression serious now. He’s still facing the road carefully, voice slightly gruff, and in a rush, the feeling floods back — the almost painful yearning, almost too much to bear. Jaebum relaxes; and allows the full intensity to suffuse his being.

Jinyoung moves a hand to the gearshift, and Jaebum hesitates, throat dry, before gently covering it. Jinyoung looks over again, his eyes dark in the glow of the streetlamps. The rain is lighter now, but shows no signs of ending.

"We’re going to be okay,” Jaebum says, hoarsely. He tightens his hand over Jinyoung’s knuckles, his warm skin.

"Yes,” Jinyoung whispers, their eyes locking, then leans over and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't written in like a year, i had no time and kept feeling like i'd gotten rusty, but i did have this plot bunny in my head for the past few months - not this one, incidentally. i just ended up writing this short drabble first but hopefully i'll have time to post that one soon. it's more fluffy than this (lol) about ceo jaebum and officeworker jinyoung.
> 
> ahh oops i wanted to start using 'jaebeom' with this fic but completely forgot LOL force of habit i guess. hope it doesn't take anything away!
> 
> anyways i just wanted to leave this here to encourage any other writers who may be in a similar position to me, feeling like writing but not having time or energy. trust me, it'll feel good and even cathartic to take the time to write something small, even just a tiny drabble! doesn't matter how long or good it is, just let yourself indulge!
> 
> i love you all! happy holidays :3
> 
> ps. i have read all the comments i received, and will always do! xx


	2. loml

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve known each other the whole of their seventeen and a half years, through preschool and elementary and middle school up through the time Jinyoung became the smartest student in their grade in high school and Jaebeom became vice-captain of the basketball team. (high school au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like i'm officially addicted to writing drabbles, so i decided to make this an ongoing drabble collection! i STILL have that office au plot bunny on my mind, but it's like i've built it up in my head for so many months that now writing it is stupidly daunting lol. i'll keep trying, though, and it's planned to be the next chapter :)
> 
> in the meantime, have some hs au jy thirsting over jb, because of course that NEVER gets old  
> i hope it's fluffier than the previous one at least lol

It’s not the last day of high school, but it is the last year, and the first ever year in Jinyoung’s life the word _last_ inspires a bittersweet tang in him.

They’re at _that_ age, when everything is starting to feel murky and uncertain and complicated — but without exception, each dawn still shimmers with possibility.

He hears the irregular _thump thump thump_ ing of Jaebeom’s basketball on the asphalt of the sidewalk before Jinyoung sees him. Then his shadow turns the corner, long and hazy in the dim light.

On cue, Jinyoung’s heart skips a beat and his breath catches. That’s a first. They’ve known each other the whole of their seventeen and a half years, through preschool and elementary and middle school up through the time Jinyoung became the smartest student in their grade in high school and Jaebeom became vice-captain of the basketball team.

Nobody knows they still observe the ritual of walking to school together in the wee hours of the morning, not even their new best friends, the head prefect Jackson and Mark, captain of the basketball team.

Which has been a secret harder to keep than it sounds, since Jackson and Mark are publicly known to be inseparable buds themselves.

Jinyoung kind of likes it this way, actually — it’s not like they’re ashamed of how different they are; just that it’s nice to have this closeness all to themselves, when the rest of the world thinks they’ve long drifted apart.

Some things don’t have to be shouted from the rooftops — because they occupy the quietest corner of one’s heart.

They don’t even talk much during these meandering walks; but Jaebeom always takes the side of the pavement closest to the road, and sometimes he dribbles his worn ratty ball as he walks and Jinyoung thinks he’ll skip dessert at recess so he can add a penny to the fund he’s saving up to buy a new basketball.

In all honesty, he’d already saved enough before Jaebeom’s latest birthday, and was fully intending to buy it then. But then Jinyoung's birthday had come around, a few months prior, and Jaebeom hadn’t given him anything except verbal wishes on the morning of.

He’d overthought it, and felt, irrationally, that a basketball — or any gift, really — after that, would feel unnaturally momentous.

Now, Jinyoung doesn’t know if it’s because he’s a bit older, or something about the morning air and sky, but that all feels petty, trivial and insignificant.

He should’ve just done what he wanted, and bought Jaebeom the basketball so he could have a new one for the last year before graduation.

"Are you still gonna play in university?” he blurts out, apropos of nothing.

Jaebeom looks over at him, expression slightly confused and amused.

"This?” He twirls the ball on a fingertip.

Jinyoung nods sheepishly. The leaves rustle overhead in the faintest breeze which ruffles through Jaebeom’s almost messy hair, and he tears his eyes away, chest suddenly too full to look.

Jaebeom has continued walking, hugging the ball to his chest now. Jinyoung glances at his shoulders, then catches up.

"I don’t know,” Jaebeom says, giving him a carefree smile. “Why?"

Jinyoung shrugs. “No reason."

They walk a few more paces, in companionable silence, then Jaebeom says, “Do you want me to?"

Jinyoung looks at him sharply. “What?"

"I mean — do you think I should?” Now it’s Jaebeom’s turn to look sheepish.

"It's up to you,” Jinyoung rolls his shoulders again, thrown. “Do you still enjoy it?"

"Hmm.” Jaebeom plays a finger over chapped lips, and Jinyoung’s eyes follow the movement unconsciously.

"I have something to tell you.” The words slip out of his mouth in a daze.

Jaebeom pauses a beat, turns to look at him with head tilted slightly and eyes narrowed with interest.

"What is it?” For some reason, he sounds almost eager.

Jinyoung swallows. “Not now. On graduation day."

"Graduation day,” Jaebeom echoes, voice low. Jinyoung just nods, throat dry.

"Okay.” Jaebeom nods too, decisively. After a heartbeat, he adds, “I’ve got something to tell you too."

"What?” Jinyoung gasps, and Jaebeom laughs out loud at the look on his face. He counters, eyes twinkling with mischief: “Graduation day."

"No fair!” Jinyoung grabs his shoulder, but drops his hand when Jaebeom eyes it. He hopes he’s not blushing. His fingers tingle.

Jaebeom’s shirt is creased where Jinyoung’s fingerprints are left, fading. He doesn’t straighten it.

Jinyoung looks up, and Jaebeom is still looking at him, quietly. His expression is unreadable now, for one of the first times since Jinyoung has known him.

"You wanna tell me now?” Jaebeom blinks, then cracks a smirk.

"No!” Jinyoung shoves him, and his basketball rolls into the bushes. Jaebeom laughs easily, and dives in after it.

"I’ll make you spill it first,” Jinyoung threatens, voice wobbly, when Jaebeom emerges with grass stains on his pristine uniform shirt and hair tousled handsomely.

"Oh?” Jaebeom runs his razor sharp eyes over Jinyoung, from head to toe, and Jinyoung swears he _shivers_. “We’ll see, Jinyoungie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i wanted to reiterate my encouragement to any other writers who may be struggling with blocks, do take the dive and write something even if it's not perfect, even if it's just a drabble~ :)
> 
> i really appreciated everyone who kudos-ed and commented on the first chapter!!!


	3. brand new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Christmas Eve until New Year's Eve, Jinyoung goes back to watch the same busker every night. (busker jaebeom x songwriter jinyoung au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first time in my life writing holiday fic lol, and i really didn't expect it to get beyond drabble length  
> i hope you get a few minutes of reading pleasure!

It’s Christmas eve and Jinyoung is out with his friend Mark and his boyfriend Jackson, because his family isn’t in town and Mark had assured him they were just planning to hang out anyway.

Jackson legitimately doesn’t seem to care, but Jinyoung declines his invitation to join them the next day too, making up something about meeting another friend of his, Yugyeom.

"Oh, your cute junior from university?” Mark asks, looking interested. “How is he?"

Jinyoung smiles and says _yes, fine_ , looking around for something to change the subject to before Mark pries further. Like magic, music wafts from nearby, getting louder and clearer as they approach the source.

"Hey, that guy’s pretty good,” Jinyoung points out, and they both turn to look, attention successfully diverted. It’s not untrue — the busker strumming a guitar and singing his heart out has a strikingly penetrating voice that cuts through the cold night. Jinyoung stops in his tracks and really listens.

Jackson laughs. “He’d be flattered if he knew you complimented him.” Jinyoung is kind of known on the indie scene as an up and coming young songwriter to watch out for.

Jinyoung grimaces in embarrassment and wraps his scarf more snugly around the lower half of his face. Mark nonchalantly wraps his arms around Jackson’s waist and Jinyoung grimaces again behind his scarf-shield, moving away discreetly as if to watch the singer closer. For the span of one song, he decides to give his friends privacy.

He ends up a couple of metres away from the singer and his portable mic stand, kind of shy to stand right in front in the audience space. There’s no one else in the audience, actually, though passersby pause in their tracks like Jinyoung had, visibly transfixed by the husky voice. It seems most people are as abashed as himself to really stop and stare to their heart’s content.

But then a lady in her thirties walks right up and drops a dog-eared note into the guitar case in front of the man, and he breaks into the hugest smile ever. It’s dazzling and everything else disappears for a second, including his eyes. Jinyoung swallows as the singer bows and leans into his mic to say, “Thank you,” humbly before picking the song back up without missing a beat. A few young girls nearby giggle with each other.

The singer continues singing, seeming undaunted by his audience, or lack thereof. There isn’t much in his guitar case, just a few pennies and even fewer notes of small denominations, and a sign simply stating his Soundcloud username. Jinyoung has never heard of it, and feels acutely again how big this world is, and how much talent it contains. He sometimes feels so humbled that his own has had the chance to be recognised, in even the slightest way.

The song is coming to an end. Like the song before, it seems to remarkably suit the singer’s voice and style. Jinyoung realises he could stand there listening for another hour; all night long. There’s no hint of the chilly weather at all in the warm, honeyed tones which are intoxicating like a cozy room he could sink into and lose himself.

But there’s a hand on his shoulder and Mark is whispering into his ear that Jackson wants to know if he’s hungry.

"Yeah, sure I am,” Jinyoung replies, starting to turn away. His voice makes the singer look in his direction for the first time, and Jinyoung stops in his tracks again because the same brilliant smile is being directed at him now, if a little dimmer.

He doesn’t think much of it as the teenage girls who had drifted behind him are now clamouring forward to ask if the busker takes requests, but he smiles back before his view is blocked by the girls and Jackson slings an arm around his and Mark’s shoulders to lead them away.

The next evening, after he has made a halfhearted attempt to ask Yugyeom out and received the expected response that he’s sorry but he’ll be attending a family gathering, Jinyoung ponders where he should go for dinner. Just because he’s alone doesn’t mean he should be stuck with the reheated meal in the fridge his mother had prepared days ago. It’s still cold outside, but Jinyoung doesn’t feel like staying in.

The only place he can think of that he’s sure he won’t bump into Mark and Jackson is the same place they went yesterday. Jinyoung trudges down the street with his hands in his pockets, getting jostled by couples and families and little kids having the night of their lives.

Then he freezes in his paces, because right there, near the same area they passed through the previous day, he can hear a familiar voice making a cheesy Christmas song sound like velvet.

He looks up, gingerly for some reason, and sees the busker crooning into the mic under fairy lights draped over the trees. There’s a slightly bigger crowd today, and Jinyoung feels a pang of solidarity with the guy his age who’s surrounded by people, but singing his heart out, alone too. He’s barely able to go out and get dinner without feeling sorry for himself — much less sing to strangers on this day.

Amidst his thoughts, the song has concluded, and the crowd thins after soft applause and a few appreciative tokens tossed into the guitar case. There’s more cash in there today — the busker must have been around since before dark. His voice is somewhat hoarser today, which gives it a studio-like, lo-fi quality.

He suddenly realises that the other man appears to be staring in his direction again. Jinyoung turns hesitantly, but there isn’t anybody behind him today. The singer poises his pick on the guitar frets and leans forward to say something into the mic before his next song, but Jinyoung has turned away, heart racing stupidly, hoping he wasn’t recognised. The scarf had been covering half his face yesterday, so maybe. He hopes the busker doesn’t think he’s some sort of weirdo, or worse, a stalker. He walks briskly away in the direction of the convenience store, and ends up getting a microwave meal anyway; but his heart feels oddly warm and full when he lets himself back into his empty, cold house.

Next afternoon, Jinyoung finds himself in the cafe nearby the same spot, already hearing snatches of song reaching his ears on the wind. He itches to be there already, watching the busker and listening to whatever song he’s singing today, whether or not Jinyoung knows it.

He’s been trying to justify himself for the past five minutes when Jackson arrives.

"Yo.” He’s frowning, but not unhappily, just trying to figure out why Jinyoung called him out alone.

"Hey.” Jinyoung thought about it — Mark has known him for too long to not suspect something’s up, so Jackson is his best bet.

"I, uh, really liked the food we ate here that day?” He blushes.

Jackson looks at him funny. “The waffles?"

Jinyoung nods. “Yup."

"Okay…” Jackson makes himself comfortable on the seat opposite, then signals the waiter before going back to eyeing Jinyoung dubiously. To his credit, he doesn’t ask anything more, though.

He feels like there are ants in his pants the whole time he sits there and watches Jackson scarf down the waffles while barely taking bites of his own. Jackson is in better spirits by the time they finish and walk out, after Jinyoung pays the bill.

"You were right, the waffles are awesome. My treat, next time."

Jinyoung’s only half-listening. “So how did you and Mark hyung spend Christmas?"

As planned, that starts Jackson on a jabbering monologue which leaves Jinyoung free to admire the now-familiar face they’re approaching, without appearing like a creepy fan beside Jackson — hopefully.

The weather is wonderful today — clear blue cloudless skies, just the right amount of sunshine. Almost like telepathy, the singer is breathing one of his favourite songs into the mic — Ed Sheeran’s _Castle On The Hill_. Jinyoung never imagined he would hear this song performed so intimately, so candidly, live, by such a divine voice — it feels like, for one instant, his life is complete. To boot, the man’s English is great too.

"Are you even listening?” Jackson’s demand interrupts his reverie, thankfully as the song is coming to an end. Jinyoung almost shushes him, but the singer is already looking over, in their direction, and Jinyoung wishes the ground would open up spontaneously.

"Hey, isn’t that that guy whose singing you complimented on Christmas eve?"

Now Jinyoung really wishes he were elsewhere.

There’s no doubt the singer heard Jackson’s exclamation, and Jinyoung shuffles his feet as surprise flits across his features, followed by obvious pleasure. He can’t really tell from this far but it looks like the guy is blushing too. For once, he’s paused between songs for longer than usual.

"It looks like he wants to talk to you,” Jackson states, putting his thoughts into words, and Jinyoung panics on the spot. Without thinking, he’s grabbed Jackson’s elbow and is dragging him away, ignoring his protests.

"What’s wrong with you?” Jinyoung winces under Jackson’s glare later, when they’re a distance away and the busker doesn’t seem to have pursued them. “I know you asked me here just to see him, so why are you running? Is it someone you know?"

Jinyoung makes a few hasty excuses and leaves before Jackson can extract any confessions out of him.

The next day, Jinyoung arrives at the scene flanked by Yugyeom and his girlfriend Bambam. Three’s a crowd, he figures, and the singer won’t try and speak to him if he has two buffers including a girl.

He needn’t have worried, because while the singer’s eyes immediately seek him out of the small crowd of onlookers with obvious recognition, he just flashes a small, mysterious smile before shifting his gaze away. Leaving Jinyoung feeling slightly disappointed and stupid.

Still, he stays on listening at the edge of the crowd, because Bambam really likes the music and even goes up to the guitar case to leave a tip at the end of the session. Jinyoung watches the busker bow to her with gentlemanly courtesy, giving her a smile so knee-buckling Yugyeom digs an elbow into Jinyoung’s ribs and whines, “Why did you bring us here, hyung?"

Jinyoung quickly tows Yugyeom away before the singer overhears again, making Bambam run to catch up with them in confusion.

The next day, Jinyoung brings his family to the cafe by “coincidence”. Every day, he expects to see that the busker has moved on to a different spot, a new audience. His heart has started skipping a beat when he hears the familiar bass, the understated raw emotion of the voice that has endeared itself to him.

He returns the next and the next and the next, alone. It no longer feels awkward, almost natural to stand there listening for close to an hour, making the briefest of eye contact with the singer occasionally as he moves his eyes over the people gathered. None of them are ever the same, Jinyoung is pleased to note. He’s the only one who comes back, day after day. He wonders what the busker thinks of this, if he’s flattered as Jackson guessed, or annoyed. He must not find it creepy, at least, since he continues to busk at the same spot.

On the day before the last day of the year, although he has a family gathering, he makes excuses to leave early before rushing breathlessly to the cafe, as if he has a standing appointment. Unspoken but understood, just between them. It’s dumb, and Jinyoung reminds himself he’s just an overzealous fan. That’s what he’s become.

But that night, he gets so absorbed in his songwriting during the cup of latte he always drinks before heading to listen, that when he looks up, the cafe is closing.

He dashes to the spot, chest tightening in disappointment to find it empty and devoid of any traces the singer had been there today. Checking his watch, he realises how late it is, and starts walking home — the chill biting tonight.

It’s New Year’s Eve. He turns up like clockwork, not expecting anything; expecting everything.

He hears the soul-snatching voice from down the street. The jolt in his heart isn’t new, but it still startles the breath out of him every time.

Today’s the day, something whispers. Today’s the one chance Jinyoung has to finally speak to him.

The busker stops singing, mid-song, when Jinyoung steps out of the shadows. Jinyoung’s throat constricts — this can’t be happening; but the man is shrugging his guitar off his shoulders and placing it on the ground hastily, before briskly striding towards Jinyoung as if he’s afraid he won’t see Jinyoung again.

When the other man is standing in front of him, Jinyoung notices he’s taller than expected. And, like, ruinously handsome. How could he not have noticed before?

He also has the most gorgeous, shy smile draped over his face. He can barely meet Jinyoung’s eyes, and Jinyoung feels like he’s on fire.

"You didn’t come yesterday.” The voice he knows so well by now says.

"I —“ Jinyoung starts, then stops. His voice is squeaky so he clears his throat. “I was writing at that cafe over there and lost track of time,” he blurts apologetically, deciding to throw everything in and be honest.

"Writing?” The guy obviously has no idea who Jinyoung is, either. Jinyoung feels his crush swell three sizes bigger.

"Like. Songs.” He can’t help smiling, and watches the foolish smile on his face bloom in response on the singer’s.

"You write songs.” Jinyoung nods.

The guy covers his mouth, then looks down at the ground. “I was kind of worried,” he admits.

"About… me?"

The other nods.

"I know it was stupid to expect you to keep coming, but I got sad when you didn’t show. Then I worried something might have happened with you.

"Or… that you’d never turn up again."

Jinyoung can’t believe his ears. Sure, he’d known the guy knew he was supporting him, but he never dreamt his presence had been so important.

"I — I didn’t think you’d care."

The stranger frowns, then admits after a beat, “I didn’t either. But I really wanted —"

Jinyoung stares at him, and the guy stops mid-sentence. “Wanted what?” he breathes.

"To talk to you.” The hot stranger’s face is definitely reddening now. There’s so much relief and amazement blazing in his eyes, Jinyoung is at a loss for words.

A countdown is starting nearby. He hadn’t even realised it was already midnight. Around them, people are laughing and hugging and kissing, rejoicing the end of the old year and the beginning of a new one. Jinyoung feels something shift deep in his heart as the rainbow glow of distant fireworks illuminates the crown of the other man’s hair.

"I…"

"I’m Jaebeom,” the man says, before he can finish his sentence. “I just wanted to tell you — thanks for smiling at me, that first night — Christmas Eve. I’d just gotten my busking license the day before, and I was _terrified_ out of my wits."

"…You saw? But I was wearing a scarf…"

Jaebeom smiles. “I could tell you were smiling. It made me feel much better. And…"

"And?"

Jaebeom hesitates. “I thought you were… really cute,” he confesses, covering his mouth again and looking away.

Jinyoung takes a deep breath, shaking.

 _I think you’re really cute too_.

That’s what he wants to say.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: “I’m Jinyoung."

It seems to be enough, though, from the way Jaebeom’s entire face lights up. It seems to be — _perfect_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about that office au........ i've decided to just let nature take its course lmao. i'll definitely write it eventually though, for my own peace of mind. super thankful to each and every reader who has kudosed ;~;


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